Doctors of Philosophy (5 page)

CATHERINE.
Oh, Annie, you shouldn’t. … I hope …

A
NNIE
(still hunting)
. Come and sit beside me, Charlie, while I look for Catherine’s present.

Both
CHARLIES
move towards
ANNIE.

CATHERINE.
We make a distinction between the two Charlies, Annie, by calling them young Charlie and Charlie.

A
NNIE
beams
at
YOUNG CHARLIE,
who sits beside her while
CHARLIE
retreats
.

CATHERINE.
Charlie, what’s the matter? Haven’t you made it up with Leonora? I sense something.

A
NNIE.
Here it is.
(Hands
CATHERINE
parcel.)
I sense something too. Leonora, I’ve advised you before. I know you’re brilliant, but if you want to keep on the right side of a man you’ve got to say nice things to him. There’s no point in just winning a learned argument, it—

CATHERINE.
This looks very exciting.

A
NNIE.
Don’t look so worried, Catherine, it’s only a book.

CATHERINE.
Marler’s Economical Cookery.

A
NNIE.
I thought you would obviously not have a cookery book in the house. It will be a change from your studies and all that heavy reading, Catherine. Something womanly.

CATHERINE.
Thank you, Annie.
(Places book aside.)
Charlie —young Charlie—wouldn’t you like to go and sit beside Daphne? You don’t want to be stuck with us women old enough to be your mother.

Y
OUNG CHARLIE.
No thanks.

D
APHNE.
He’s got a mother-fixation, quite incurable.

ANNIE.
Isn’t he perfectly marvellous! Now there was something I wanted to ask you, Charlie. I mean
old
Charlie.
(Fishes in large handbag.)
I’ve been so worried about an economic problem. I’ve been trying to puzzle my head, then on the way here I thought to myself ‘Of course ! Charlie’s the man. The foremost economist in the realm. Charlie will help me.’ I know I’ve got it here — here it is.
(Fishes out thick bank statement.)
You see, it’s my bank statement. Now Charlie, look. You see that item for four and twopence? Well, it happens on every page. Look, there’s two on a page. Now I never write a cheque for four and twopence. Whatever can it mean? I believe I’m being robbed.

CHARLIE.
Those are charges for your cheque books. They cost four and twopence each.

ANNIE.
Charlie, you’re brilliant. Catherine — he’s an absolutely brilliant economist. No wonder I’ve got an overdraft with the price of cheque books what it is. I—

MRS. S
. looks in at the door

M
RS.
S. More flowers have come for Annie. (
Withdraws.)

LEONORA.
Something’s wrong with Daphne.

ANNIE.
Is she allergic to the idea of pollen?

DAPHNE
dashes out, hand to mouth,
YOUNG CHARLIE
follows her
.

CATHERINE.
It’s my fault. We had a row before lunch about a nightdress and it’s given her a stomach upset.

C
HARLIE.
Is that young fellow helping her to be sick in the lavatory ?

CATHERINE.
I suppose so. Don’t interfere. We’ve done enough damage, Charlie.

A
NNIE.
What does the young man do when he’s not doing his unmentionable work?

CHARLIE.
Chases after my daughter. He’s the quiet type. I wouldn’t trust him.

A
NNIE.
Well, if she marries him, she’ll have a marvellous life. She’ll have all the say.

C
HARLIE.
She can’t marry him. She’s got to get her degree and show something for my money.

LEONORA.
Daphne ought to be married, she’s the marrying type. She ought to have a child.

C
HARLIE
jumps up.

CATHERINE.
Instead of going on marches.

A
NNIE.
What’s the matter, Charlie?

C
HARLIE
(sitting down).
What did you say, Leonora?

L
EONORA.
Daphne ought to get married and have children.

C
HARLIE.
I thought you said a child.

L
EONORA.
Well, yes, for a start.

C
HARLIE.
I don’t think you’re well, Leonora.

CATHERINE.
Charlie, be reasonable.

A
NNIE.
Charlie, you look as if you’ve had a frightfully bad dream.

CATHERINE.
Charlie did have a curious dream last night, Annie.

C
HARLIE.
It wasn’t a dream.

CATHERINE.
Charlie, you agreed before lunch that it was. You apologised to Leonora.

C
HARLIE.
I know I did.
(Goes out.)

A
NNIE.
Was Leonora in the dream?

LEONORA.
Apparently. It was a frightfully bad one.

ANNIE.
Then it is you who should apologise to Charlie, Leonora. I do think if one succeeds in entering a man’s dreams one owes him a good dream. How long are you staying in London?

LEONORA.
Two or three weeks. I have to go back and forward to the British Museum.

A
NNIE.
Haven’t you finished writing your book yet?

LEONORA.
What book?

A
NNIE.
I forget what it was called, it was a long name. Wasn’t it entitled ‘The Ancient Assyrians, Intimate Revelations’?

L
EONORA.
How do you know about my book on the Assyrians?

A
NNIE.
Mrs. S. told me about it a couple of years ago, when you started it.

L
EONORA.
How did Mrs. S. know? I’m keeping it secret.

CATHERINE.
Mrs. S. knows everything. I didn’t know till today.

L
EONORA.
Catherine, I object to Mrs. S. prying among my papers.

CATHERINE.
She pries into our papers. There isn’t a thing we can do about it. In any case, the subject is not exclusive to any one scholar. As you know.

A
NNIE.
I think it awfully sad that you scholars have to spend years and years on research, and then find that all your theories are blown to hell by some new discovery. I’m awfully sorry about these new finds in Mesopotamia, Leonora. Two years hard labour wasted!

L
EONORA.
Which new finds? What are you talking about?

CATHERINE.
Oh come, Annie, now you really are out of your depths. Even I see the quarterly journals, you know.

ANNIE.
I’ve read about it somewhere. Now where was it? I know for a fact that it blows all your theories to hell. I’m sorry, Leonora, but you’ll have to begin again, right from scratch.

LEONORA.
I think I would have heard of any sensational discoveries of that nature, Annie. As a matter of fact there are no excavations in progress at the moment, they hope to resume in—

ANNIE.
I know where I saw it! It was in the Late Night Final.
(Fishes in hand-bag.)
Where’s that paper? Here it is! Now just a minute till I find. … Oh yes, now listen to this: ‘Sensational finds on Ancient Site: New Babylonian Writings. A young shepherd boy at Kish near the ancient site of Babylon on Tuesday narrowly escaped death by a falling boulder, and after his leap to safety noticed in the cavity revealed by the dislodged stone a number of stone tablets. Later investigation has proved that these tablets, inscribed in cuneiform characters, date back to the 5th century
B.C.,
and apparently were the family records of a wealthy steward under Nebuchadnezzar, ranging in subject matter from the morning prayers of the household to the cost of eyepaint for concubines. “Even at a glance it is obvious that these finds are going to affect all our previous conceptions of dates, writings, customs, symbolism and religious observances of the Babylonians,” said Professor G. Smart Dwight, the American Assyriologist, who—’

LEONORA.
Dwight!

A
NNIE.
Dwight. ‘… who flew here today. Professor Dwight added, “all our previous work on Assyrian pal … pal …’

CATHERINE.
Palaeography.

ANNIE.
‘ “will have to be completely revised. We shall have to start again from scratch.” Professor Locking of Oxford University, who has—’

CATHERINE.
Locking!

ANNIE.
Locking. ‘… of Oxford University, who has also flown to the site, confirmed this and added, “This is in the nature of a revelation. It— ” ’

LEONORA.
Let me see it.

CATHERINE.
Let me have a look.

ANNIE.
You can see it all for yourself, Leonora, in black and white. You see it blows all your theories to hell.

L
EONORA
reads while
CATHERINE
looks over her shoulder.

CATHERINE.
It seems there will have to be some slight rethinking, Annie.

ANNIE.
Slight re-thinking, my eye. It blows—

CATHERINE.
How does it seem to you, Leonora?

LEONORA
. It’s exciting.

ANNIE.
What do you mean, it’s exciting. I blow all your theories to hell and you say it’s exciting. Two years’ work.

L
EONORA.
That doesn’t matter, Annie. Forty years wouldn’t matter. What matter are the new discoveries.

CATHERINE.
There is a scholar’s point of view, Annie, which you will never share. But we are obliged for your interesting snippet of information.

ANNIE.
Well, at least I’ve saved Leonora another day or two’s fruitless work. She’s looking pale.

L
EONORA.
Fruitless.

A
NNIE.
Absolutely fruitless. If I were you, Leonora, I’d go and see a doctor, even if it’s only about your health. I must go and change into something suitable for gazing across the canal by dusk. Whenever there’s a gap in my life I go and see a doctor. That’s
my
philosophy.
(Exit.)

CURTAIN

END OF ACT 1

A
WEEK LATER.

Another view of the same room. French windows open,
ANNIE,
dressed in an opulent dressing-gown, sits writing by a desk near the window.
CHARLIE
is in the room.

A
NNIE.
Take no notice of it.

CHARLIE.
I can’t.

A
NNIE.
Well then, don’t be so mean. After all, Leonora’s one of the family. Give her a child if she wants a child, anything for a quiet life. How do you spell susceptible?

Enter
CATHERINE
with a shopping basket.

CATHERINE.
Annie, it’s gone twelve.

A
NNIE.
So it has. I’ve only written two and a half letters. Charlie has been giving me the full story of his experiences during the past week.

CATHERINE.
Hadn’t you better be getting dressed in case anyone comes in or something?

CHARLIE.
‘Give me a child …’

A
NNIE.
I am dressed.

CATHERINE.
I meant dressed in something different from your bedroom attire. Not that I myself care in the—

A
NNIE.
I chose this as being specially suitable for sitting by a sunny window writing letters.

C
HARLIE.
I don’t think she knows what she’s saying at the time.

CATHERINE.
It does look rather charming, I must admit. Stand up and turn round slowly.

CHARLIE.
Looks very nice, Annie. I say I don’t think she knows what she’s saying at the time.

CATHERINE.
But I wouldn’t myself call it suitable for writing letters, particularly.

ANNIE.
It depends what sort of letters you write.

CHARLIE.
Looks very nice, Annie— I don’t think she wants a child. It is simply something she says. She’s under a compulsion to say it.

A
NNIE.
That’s exactly what I suffer from. I’m always saying things. Something inside me makes me.

Enter
MRS. S.

I might easily say to you ‘Charlie, give me a child, I want a child.’ I mean, at the very worst you could reply, ‘Anything you say, Annie darling.’

MRS. S
. Did you get the cucumber, Mrs. D.?

CATHERINE.
No, you didn’t mention cucumber.

MRS. S
. Yes, I did. — Just carry on with your conversation, Annie. — I said bring a cucumber, I could see you wasn’t listening.

A
NNIE.
No-one would think it odd, I’m sure, if I said, ‘Charlie—’

CATHERINE.
Leonora’s different from you, Annie.

CHARLIE.
It would be a different proposition altogether, Annie.

M
RS.
S. Leonora hasn’t got freedom of speech like you, Annie. She’s educated. Daphne’s on a diet to catch a husband. It wasn’t much to ask, any normal mother would a laid herself out to get a cucumber under the circumstances, but I knew—

CATHERINE.
Leonora’s a scholar, one takes her seriously. There’s no comparison, Annie, between the effect of what you might say and the effect of what Leonora says. M
RS.
S. We take everything from whence it comes in this establishment, Annie. Poor Leonora don’t get away with much, she can’t sit around like you all morning looking like the Caliph of Bagdad’s favourite Christian. Make people think she was off her rocker. You’re all right, you haven’t got a rocker. I wanted to slice a bit of cucumber for Daphne’s salad, special diet.